Carolyn Such

A Compassionate Heart

Both the Catholic and Buddhist teachings tell us that all life is suffering. This is not to say that to be a Catholic or Buddhist is to be a pessimist, nor does the beliefs deny happiness. Buddhism simply teaches that being alive necessitates the experience of suffering. Buddhist teachings say to the mourning; to deny grief is to deny yourself the accumulation of wisdom and compassion. So, in this way, grief is a gift, even if it is an unwelcome one. That is, we should be acutely aware that Carolyn, like everyone who has ever died, will be reborn upon dying and so there is no reason to mourn her passing. But it’s difficult to not feel resentful at this reassurance in the face of grief. The teachings of the Buddha emphasize the universality of grief, how it touches so many people, binding us together. This is the river of grief, which is hidden from view but brings us to face our humanity. As we move through the stages of grief, we discover the truth of impermanence of everything in this life and of our own lives. In this way we become closer to the truth in learning to let go.

Of course, the story of Carolyn starts a long way away from the origins of this philosophy, in Fort Wayne, Indiana. But taking her humble origins for granted, one would gravely underestimate how many lives she would touch in her time here on earth.

Despite being a child of the great depression, Carolyn is known for her relentless optimism and this is reflected in the joyful remembrance of her childhood. She would tell her grandchildren stories about helping her grandparents care for animals on their farm, and helping to harvest maple syrup in March. Her relationship with nature and farm life would go on to influence the course of her life in ways she could not possibly have imagined at the time.  Everything in her early years was probably not so easy in reality, as her Dad was forced to work part time at the height of the depression, but her telling of the story depicts instead a bright white-picket fence, ice cream parlor dream. Further strife would come when the US entered WW2 when the Shaffer’s were given a ration book, greatly restricting what they could purchase. Things like sugar, meat, cooking oil, canned goods, and leather shoes were needed for the war effort, and so civilians could not purchase such items without the appropriate stamp.

After high school, Carolyn moved to Indianapolis to begin work as a secretary. This move to Indianapolis brought friendship and eventually love as she soon met her future sister in law and close friend, Grace Oskin and her future husband Al, who she met at a party in Speedway. She once told me that the moment she saw Al at that party, she knew she was going to marry him. Al was a bit less certain, but after briefly breaking up with him and going back to Fort Wayne to rest from an illness, Al finally proposed. Their wedding was on an incredibly hot September day, and she said her favorite part was when it was finally over – recollecting that it was so hot one of her sisters fainted! Al and Carolyn had a very fitting honeymoon in a cabin by a lake in Minnesota.

The next chapter of Carolyn’s life would bring seven healthy children as well as many animals, and along with them much hilarity and mischief. Stories of broken bones, a zoo’s worth of critters, firework mishaps, motorcycle refurbishment, and epic athletic feats compose her child-raising era. Carolyn’s family were known around their neighborhood for her lengthy supper call, (Al, Lisa, Larry, Jerry, Andi, John, and Joe), the recitation of which was required for marriage into the family. In the collective memory sewn together from stories from Carolyn and her children, the Such house was a place full of children and laughter where there was never a dull moment.

This joyous period would take somewhat of a hiatus after her husband broke his arm showing off on a banana seat bicycle revealing a tumor that would later kill him in 1982. Her graduation from this part of her life should not be remembered as one of grief, but rather celebrated as the blossoming of a new person, one that would help educate so many people, including herself. Following the death of her husband, Carolyn got her BA in Religious Studies with a minor in Medical Sociology. She began her volunteering career at Methodist Hospital working with dying patients and their families. She then took an interest to traveling, having visited China, Japan, parts of Europe, and the United Kingdom during this time. She decided to satisfy her wanderlust by becoming a flight attendant while waiting for a Peace Corps assignment. During her stent with American Trans Air, she would visit nearly every country in the world – or at least every country’s airport.

The beginning of Carolyn’s Peace Corps assignment marks a very significant time in her life. She told me many stories of the people that lived there, and told me that if she could take me anywhere in the world, it would be Guatemala where she had worked, primarily teaching nutrition to impoverished Guatemalan natives in the mountains.  After coming home, she felt overwhelmed by city life in Indianapolis and so she quickly signed up to teach English to graduate students in Manchuria, Peoples Republic of China, for a year and a half. Anyone visiting Carolyn’s house would immediately recognize how much she valued this time in her life, as almost every inch of her house was decorated with artifacts from these missions. One can only imagine the extent to which her presence improved the lives of those she worked with, and it is obvious that they also gave her so much in return.

After returning from China, Carolyn continued to be an invaluable resource to her community. Most notably, she continued working as a volunteer translator at the Methodist hospital, both in Indianapolis and on missions to central and South America with Operation Walk, and as a bereavement counselor at Camp Healing Tree until she was 80.

Carolyn maintained her sharp wit into old age and was known to solve the morning crossword in ink. She kept both mentally and physically fit until Alzheimer’s disease slowly forced her brain to succumb. It was her incredible activeness and mental acuteness that made her mental decline all the more painful and hard to accept. In facing such pain, it is helpful to reflect on what she would say in such a time. She had a rich and complex religious life, believing in the universality of all religion in the assumption of cosmic responsibility for one’s actions, and unsurprisingly had profound ideas about death. She would educate her grandchildren about death by explaining that people are like leaves of a tree, and they fall in autumn so that new leaves can grow in the spring. Carolyn believed that death was the beginning of one’s energy being freed from human form, which could manifest as needed to help others. There is no doubt that she is watching over all of us right now, and she lives on through her family, friends, and in the communities which she served.

Carolyn was preceded in death by her husband, Alva T. Such II; daughter, Andrea L Doyle; and son Lawrence P Such.  Those left behind to cherish his memory, sons, Alva T. III (Ginger), Jerald L (Joyce), John W (Annette) Joseph A (Julie), daughter Lisa J. Blue, and several nieces, nephews, and grandchildren.

Public calling 4pm to 8pm February 2^nd, Flanner Buchanan-Floral Park, 425 North Holt Road, Indianapolis, IN  46222. A graveside service will take place Saturday, February 3^rd, 10am at Flanner Buchanan-Floral Park Cemetery.

She will be sadly missed by family and friends, but her compassion lives on in every life she touched.

May all beings have happiness and the causes of happiness.

May all beings be free of suffering and the causes of suffering.

May all beings enjoy ultimate joy.

10/25/1931 – 1/27/2018